


The Yngwie Malmsteen Collection

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-28
Updated: 2007-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't easy being a super-hot sex god. Sometimes a man needs to be valued for his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Yngwie Malmsteen Collection

**Author's Note:**

> Yngwie Malmsteen is a real person, and if the first time you ever heard of him was in Guitar Hero II, please don't tell me. I'll cry.
> 
> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

"I hate you."

"That's the best you have?" She rolled her eyes skyward. "Of course you hate me. I'm better at this than you."

"This? Oh, baby, I do not think so."

"Put your pants back on, Winchester." She wrapped the cheap sheets around herself and scowled at the way they scratched her skin. "What thread count are these, do you know?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"Yes, right." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and adjusted the sheet. "Baby brother's the feminine one."

"Whatever." Dean sat up and unselfconsciously spread his legs. "So, are we having more sex or what?"

"No." Bela disappeared into the hotel room's bathroom. Her voice echoed hollowly off the tiled walls. "I don't enjoy it when you're not angry."

"I wouldn't worry about that. Should only be another minute or so before you piss me off again."

"Charming."

"Now which one of us isn't trying?"

"Why should I try?" She leaned against the door and looked up at him from under her hair. "You aren't that good, Dean." When he opened his mouth then snapped it shut angrily she bowed her face to hide her smirk. "Perhaps I should be sleeping with Sam. He looked like he might have stamina."

"Hey! I have stamina!"

"I'm sure you did. In your youth." Bela tilted her shoulder and let the sheet to slide lower. "I'm sure it isn't your fault. You've probably been injured fighting the good fight and all." She allowed her gaze to linger on his groin. "So tragic."

"I'm not… Hey!" Dean angrily placed a pillow over his lap. "I'm not your toy, you know. You can't wind me up and make me--"

Bela sat on the edge of the bed and tugged on the pillow. "Pop?"

He flushed. "Whatever."

"Then what use are you to me, Dean?" She scratched her fingernail over the skin of his leg. "It isn't as if we could have a conversation."

He abandoned the pillow and jumped off the edge of the bed, grabbing his jeans. "I can," he hopped on one foot, then the other, before pulling his jeans over his hips and buttoning them. "Converse."

"Are you angry?"

Dean put on his t-shirt and crossed his arms defensively across his chest. "Yes."

"With me?"

"Yes."

"You are genuinely angry with me." Bela leaned into the warm hollow left by his body and snuggled into the pillows. "I've… damaged your feelings?"

"Yes. I am. You have." The bed bounced beneath them when he sat heavily on the edge. "I'm not some stupid puppy or something."

"I thought we had an agreement?" She craned her neck and tried to see his face. "You don't like me. I don't like you. We have very hot, angry sex which satisfies us both."

"Yeah? And?"

"And you are not satisfied?"

"With the sex?" A little of the Dean she thought she knew showed in his face when he turned to face her. "The sex was great. You're a master. Mistress. Whatever." He bunched the sheet in his fists. "Don't bullshit, Bela. You know it was great. Hell, the people next door know it was great, the way you screamed."

"I did not… Okay, fine, I did." She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. "As did you."

"Yep."

That smirk was half the reason she suggested the angry sex to begin with. The ignorant Winchester was just so damnably attractive. "Ignorant. You believe I think you are ignorant."

"You do."

"I think you're…" she trailed off, not know what to say. "You're not in the least my type. You're rather obtuse."

"Stuck up snob."

"Ignorant lout."

"I told you, Bela," he stood and took several steps away from the bed before turning toward her. "I'm not your sex toy."

"Fine." She huffed in anger. "Do you wish to have a conversation, Dean?"

"Yep."

"About?"

"Whatever you want to talk about, baby, I can keep up." He held up his hand to stop her before she could begin speaking. "But since it's my honor that's been questioned, I get to pick a topic."

"You aren't going to make me talk about some godawful, raucous, rock band, are you?"

"Maybe." The windowsill creaked when he sat back on the bed and braced his foot on it. She could see his smirk reflected in the window. "You know anything about neo-classical metal?"

"Sounds fascinating." She snuggled further into the warmth of the hotel bed and hid her smile in the blankets. "Tell me more, Winchester. Tell me more."


End file.
